


Glömma

by stealyourshiny



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kink Meme, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a Kink Meme prompt: Anders manages to separate himself from Justice and loses his memory and the Darkspawn Taint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Glömma is Swedish for "Forget" (my headcanon is that the Anders speak something like Swedish).

He knew he shouldn’t take the potion alone. It was a dumb idea not to have someone else there to make sure he was alright.

So of course, he took the potion alone. Though he had left a letter with Lirene, asking her to deliver it to Hawke if he didn’t open the clinic in the morning.

He really didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Not after what happened with that mage girl in the tunnels. Even though Hawke had talked him down, even though the girl had gotten away unharmed. Justice had been shaken as well. They had both agreed to this, and they had done it to themselves. When they’d merged, there had been a massacre, neither of them wanted anything like that to happen again if -when- they were pulled apart again.

The potion itself was vile, but he drank down the whole thing, making a face at the bottle briefly. His limbs started to feel heavy and numb almost immediately.

He could feel the bottle slipping from his fingers just as the door to the clinic appeared to be opening. A detached part of his mind thought that he’d locked it while the rest of him could feel itself being pulled into the Fade. The last thing he heard was a strange song and someone yelling his name.


	2. Chapter 2

He could hear them speaking. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but one was a deep voice that sounded angry. The other was a woman that sounded somewhat frustrated. He felt like he’d been thrown from the top of the tower, and knowing the templars that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

As the haze cleared further, he began to feel uncomfortable. He was wrapped in something, and there were heavy things on top of him. His cell was usually colder than this, but he didn’t want to open his eyes in case they noticed he was awake. 

Though part of him yearned to let them know he was awake - at least then he’d have some sort of interaction with people instead of cats and demons.

It was about the time he noticed that he didn’t feel the usual fuzziness that accompanied being silenced or stuffed with magebane that the door slammed. He jumped involuntarily at the sound.

“Anders?”

It was the woman’s voice. She didn’t sound familiar, and he was pretty sure he knew all of the templars. Which suggested to him that perhaps she wasn’t a templar.

Anders opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the light. It wasn’t bright, but it was certainly more than he was used to and it hurt a little. After a moment his eyes seemed to adjust and focused on the lovely sight of the female voice he’d been hearing. She was leaning over him with a worried expression in her bright blue eyes. She had dark hair and simple garments - a dark red in colour with a golden H above her breast.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes again.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” he croaked, his voice rough from overuse. He had been hoping he’d have someone other than the walls, the cat, the templars, and the demons to talk at, but it was just another dream.

“Knew what was too good to be true?” he heard her ask, a bit of irritation seeming to creep into her voice. “Anders, open your eyes and look at me this instant.”

“Oh, go away, demon. I don’t feel like playing today,” he snapped, and rolled onto his side, giving her his back. 

“I am _not_ a demon, and this is _not_ the Fade!” The world spun for a moment as he was unceremoniously flung from the bed he’d been occupying and landed on the floor with a painful thud. His eyes were wide open as he watched her hand swing around and connect solidly with his cheek, more pain blooming through the side of his face.

He stayed perfectly still then, his eyes focused on the duvet cover that had fallen on the floor with him, and the feather mattress he’d just been occupying. He was so sure that he was in the Fade, but the pain in his cheek made his senses sharpen and he began to realise that he was not in the Fade at all.

If he wasn’t in the Fade, and he wasn’t in the Tower, then where in the Void was he?

The woman in front of him seemed to calm at his expression and reached toward him again. He flinched away, pulling his knees up to his chest and scooting away from her.

“I’m sorry Anders. I was just so worried about you. It was so stupid of you to do whatever it is you were doing by yourself! When Fenris went to the clinic he thought you were trying to commit suicide!” The woman began to cry then. 

“After what happened in the tunnels, and the thing with Mother… I just… I don’t want to lose anymore of my family.”

Anders swallowed and blinked away his own tears. He could feel it now. This wasn’t the Fade. Which meant something had happened. Somehow he was out of solitary. He was in a room with a door, and this woman - who seemed to be made of muscle - knew him somehow.

“Anders, please look at me. I’m sorry I smacked you. Please… say something.”

He flinched away again as her hand reached for his face once more, but she stopped before touching him.

“...Where am I?” he finally asked, his throat dry and scratchy. He wanted water, but was afraid to ask. Anytime he asked for things from the templars there was usually a price that went with it, or a punishment. It depended on the templar and their mood.

She blinked at him in surprise before wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You’re at the estate. We brought you here from the clinic when Fenris found you.”

“What clinic?”

The woman frowned deeply then. “Anders? What are you talking about? Your clinic in Darktown. That’s where you were when you drank that disgusting smelling concoction.”

Anders was beginning to feel like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t understand a word the woman was saying. Nothing was familiar, not even the clothes he was wearing. He picked a feather from his shirt and noticed the piece-meal greenish coat hanging from the bedpost with feathers on the shoulders. 

The woman snapped her fingers at him, causing him to focus on her startlingly blue eyes for a moment.

“Anders? What’s my name?”

His chest tightened in panic. He was obviously supposed to know this answer and the note of command in her voice was unmistakable. 

“Anders… Anders, breathe,” she said, raising her hands to touch him again, but dropped them when he cringed once more. His panic was beginning to overwhelm him. He needed to get away, he needed air, but he didn’t want to move. What if there were templars outside? What if this Fenris she kept referring to was outside? He would be stopped and dragged back to solitary again.

“Anders, what is the last thing you remember? Can you tell me that much at least?”

He tried to slow his breathing, mind flying as it tried to figure out what the last thing he remembered before he’d awakened in this strange place was.

“Kinloch Hold,” he croaked, then swallowed and repeated it more firmly. “I was in solitary in Kinloch Hold. I… don’t remember exactly what happened before I fell asleep, but I was still in my cell.”

She stared at him before slowly standing up again. “Um… Anders. Just… just stay in this room, okay? I… need to talk to someone.”

“Yes ser.” He kept his eyes on her feet and nodded slowly, so he didn’t see her flinch. To the right he heard the door finally open and then close again softly, indicating that she’d left.

A voice in his head told him to run. This was his chance to escape from whatever he’d gotten himself into. Another voice pointed out that he didn’t even know where he was, that the woman might be a templar, and that he should probably just stay where he was until he got more information. Besides, he had no idea how many other templars were in the building and he really didn’t want to run into any of them right now. Not with his most recent ‘punishment’ still fresh in his memory.


	3. Chapter 3

“No Varric, you don’t understand. He called me _‘ser’_. He wouldn’t _look_ at me. He thinks he was in Kinloch Hold!”

“Calm down Hawke. He hit his head when he fainted. Or whatever that potion was scrambled his brains a bit. I’m sure he’s just fine,” Varric was saying as they climbed the stairs to the room they’d settled Anders into. Hawke was worried though. She had seen the look on his face when he’d realised he wasn’t in the Fade. She’d seen the terror, the confusion, and the definite belief that he was not where he was supposed to be.

With a gentle knock on the door when they reached it, Hawke cautiously opened it to find Anders in the exact same spot she’d left him in. She could see his shoulders stiffen when the door had opened, but he didn’t move or look at them.

“Anders?”

Varric followed her into the room and she saw him frown slightly as the door was closed and Anders flinched at the noise. “Yes, ser.”

She sighed softly, having somewhat hoped that he’d be himself by the time she’d gotten back with Varric. “You don’t have to call me that, Anders.”

“Hey Blondie, I hear you hit your head pretty hard. I thought rebel apostate skulls were made of sterner stuff.” Varric’s voice was cheerful as the dwarf came further into the room. He pulled up a chair and settled down across from the mage with a smile while Hawke remained awkwardly near the door. If it had been anyone else, she would have gone to Anders for help.

Fenris had come to speak with her that morning, he had given her some papers and a book he’d found in the clinic. He had thought that perhaps it would help her to figure out what Anders had drank, if not to commit suicide - which had been the elf’s initial impression.

The book looked like it was full of potion recipes, all written in Anders’ neat, but cramped handwriting. She was a warrior and not very good with any of that stuff, so she had hoped that she could get Merrill to explain it to her when the elf came back from shopping with Isabela. Then Anders had awakened, and she didn’t know where Isabela and Merrill were and so her only thought was to get Varric. Varric was good at fixing things.

“So, what happened?” Varric was leaning forward with his hands on his knees, looking at Anders expectantly, but the mage wouldn’t look at him. Hawke could see his fingers digging into his thighs.

“Anders?” Varric frowned when the mage still hadn’t responded to him. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

She saw him swallow before opening his mouth and then closing it again with a slight furrow in his brow. 

“...I’m sorry, ser. I… don’t know what you want,” Anders finally said. His whole body was tense. It reminded her of how she would hold herself when she was convinced she was going to get a beating for something she probably did to Carver or Bethany. When she was sure her mother was going to wallop her.

He flinched again when the dwarf moved, though Varric only leaned into his chair and scratched the back of his neck.

“Damn Blondie, you really did hit your head.”

Hawke walked further into the room then, and sat down on the floor near Anders, though she stayed at least arm-length away, not wanting to scare him.

“Anders, do you know our names? Do you know what city you’re in?”

He hesitated briefly before shaking his head.

“You’re a Spirit Healer right?” Varric asked, and received a nod. “Okay, what can cause memory loss?”

“...Head trauma. Emotional trauma. Old age,” Anders said after a moment of thought.

Hawke handed him some of the papers Fenris had brought her. “Do you recognise any of these?”

She watched him as he looked at them, seeing the recognition of his own handwriting in front of him. He shook his head. She collected them and handed them off to Varric, who held out his hand to her, curious about the papers.

“My name is Marian Hawke. His name is Varric Tethras. You’re in my house in Kirkwall.” She could see his eyes widen slightly, even as he was looking at the floor, his hands gripping his knees. “You’ve lived in Kirkwall for at least four years now. You lived in Amaranthine with the Grey Wardens before that.”

He was frowning then, but listening to her. “You mentioned your time in solitary to me once. I only know that it happened to you many years ago. You’ve been living in the Undercity of Kirkwall, running a free clinic for people in need. You’ve been helping me on my crazy adventures as well. I almost died fighting the Arishok a few months ago, and you saved my life.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at the floor, which frustrated her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. Hawke watched him hesitate, his eyes darting from her to Varric and back to the floor again before he licked his lips and then replied.

“Yes, ser.”

“Maker, Anders. Don’t call me that. Just Hawke or Marian. Not ser.” She stood up and offered him her hand, which he just stared at for a moment before she let it drop with a sigh. Varric stood up as well and they waited while Anders pulled himself to his feet, looking a little unsteady for a moment. She gestured for him to follow and they led him down the stairs to the kitchen.

Just as they entered the kitchen, where Bodhan was sitting with a cup of tea, Hawke heard the front door open. She pulled out a chair for Anders, which he sat in immediately.

“Bodhan, can you get Anders something to eat. Whatever he wants. I think Merrill’s back. I’m going to head her off. Varric?”

“I’ll stay here with Blondie,” he said with a nod, pulling up his own chair. Hawke nodded and left the kitchen, finding Isabela and Merrill in the foyer.

“Marian! You should have seen the hats. They were so big and feathery. I wanted one that looked like a griffon, but Isabela said it was too many feathers and that the wind would probably blow it away if I tried to wear it outside and… oh dear, you’re making a face. I’m sorry. Did I do something?”

Hawke sighed and smiled at her lover. “No, Merrill, you didn’t do anything. Anders is awake.”

“Oh! That’s good, right? No, that’s not good, because your face is making a sad face so something’s wrong. He wasn’t trying to kill himself, was he?” Merrill’s eyes were wide and she looked past Hawke toward the kitchen and then back to Hawke again.

“I don’t know. Fenris brought me some of the papers and books that he’d had sitting on the table when he drank that potion. I was hoping you could figure out what he was trying to do. He’s… not himself. He doesn’t remember anything.”

“Well that happens sometimes when people hit their heads, doesn’t it? He’ll probably be fine in a day or so. That happened to Tamlin once, but he was fine after a day.”

“I don’t think that’s what she means, kitten,” Isabela finally said, her brow furrowed as she searched Hawke’s face. Marian nodded and swallowed, looking between them.

“The last thing he remembers is falling asleep in his cell in Kinloch Hold, when he was in solitary. He doesn’t know our names, our faces… Nothing.”

“Oh my,” Merrill said, and gave Hawke a hug. “Ma’vhenan. We’ll find out what’s wrong and make it better.”


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone had been very gentle. It was disorienting, but he’d managed not to panic. Hawke had fed him and let him bathe himself (which he had done quickly, avoiding all mirrors and barely looking at himself), then a small elven woman had looked him over. She seemed to be Dalish and Anders had almost broken the chair he’d been deposited in when she’d cast magic.

There had been some discussion around him when he’d calmed down again. He had certainly not expected to see another mage, let alone one casting so casually. From his vague memory, Kirkwall had been a very strict Circle by all accounts.

The dwarf had told him not to leave the house without someone going with him, for safety. He hadn’t been told he couldn’t go around the house though, and after they’d fed him again he’d been taken back to the room he’d woken up in.

He’d tried to sleep, but the bed was too soft, and he kept expecting templars to storm through the door. He had looked out the window for a while, watching the sun disappear and the people all walk into their stone homes. It was surreal. He was free. If the others were to be believed, he’d been free for a number of years.

Eventually, he gave up trying to wait for sleep to claim him, and tentatively left the room. The house was quiet and it seemed that everyone else was in bed or had gone to their respective abodes. There was a fire in the foyer, and a large mabari sleeping near the hearth. As he came down the stairs, he noticed a door open slightly to his right and he pushed it.

“Oh! Anders, I thought you’d be asleep by now. I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I? I know sometimes I make more noise than I mean to when I’m in the house. It’s so big and everything is so awkward, and I’m babbling sorry.” The small Dalish woman was standing near a bookshelf where she’d been putting something away and was fidgeting.

“I… I’m sorry… I couldn’t sleep,” Anders said as he backed toward the door again, looking everywhere but at Merrill. 

“Oh please sit down, Anders. You don’t have to be worried about me,” Merrill said, sitting in one of the chairs and waiting for him. Anders hesitated a moment before taking the chair closest to the door and sitting on the edge of it.

“I was looking at the papers that Fenris brought. I think you were making a potion that would send you into a small pocket of the Fade.” Merrill tucked a stray braid behind her ear and pulled her feet up onto the chair. “You were trying to separate yourself from Justice, weren’t you?”

Something nagged in the back of his mind when she asked her question. A feeling that he should know that name. The fact that he recognised it as a name was disturbing as well, since there was no way he could know that. His confusion must have been apparent since Merrill spoke again without waiting for his answer.

“Justice is a Fade Spirit. During your time with the Grey Wardens he was pulled from the Fade by magic and trapped in a dead body. You offered him your live body to share,” Merrill told him. “Is he still in there? He may be hiding in your head somewhere due to your current problems.”

“...Grey Wardens?” Anders frowned and ran a hand through his loose hair, staring at the strands for a moment blankly. His hair was shorter than he remembered.

“Yes, you are a Grey Warden,” Merrill said, tilting her head and watching him. “You served with the Hero of Ferelden.”

He looked from his hair to her. “Who?”

Merrill pursed her lips, seeming to think for a moment. “You’ve never told anyone your whole story. I think only Hawke and Varric know bits and pieces of it. What year do you think it is, Anders?”

Anders shifted anxiously then. He knew it had been sometime in 9:29 when he’d been put in solitary, but he had no idea how long he’d been down there before waking up to this. “I’m… not sure. It was 9:29 when they put me in solitary. I don’t know how long I’ve been… I’d been… I don’t know.”

“Anders, it’s 9:34 Dragon. Oh, what is the month? I never remember the names in Trade…” She tapped her fingers against her lips and then brightened. “Justinian! That’s it, I think. I never remember what day it is though. Marian probably knows.”

He could feel the room starting to spin a little. They told him he’d lost his memory, that something had happened. He still hadn’t been sure if he believed them or not, but it was 9:34? He’d lost almost six years of his life? Solitary felt so real, though. So fresh in his mind. It was like it had been yesterday that he’d been on the cot in the dark; cold and hungry and in pain.

“Oh dear, Anders, you’re very pale. I didn’t mean to shock you.” 

The haze cleared briefly to reveal the elf had come over to him, her hands on his cheeks, looking worriedly into his face with large green eyes.

“Come on, you should try to sleep,” she said, releasing his face and pulling on his arm. He stood unsteadily, but allowed her to lead him back out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom he had vacated earlier. Merrill made him sit on the bed and coaxed him to lay down, pulling a blanket over him and petting his hair gently.

“I can put you to sleep with a spell if you’d like? I know you don’t sleep very well usually, but you need your rest. Tomorrow we’re going to take you out and hope that something will help you remember, or maybe bring Justice out.”

He just swallowed and closed his eyes with a nod. The magic washed over him, making his limbs heavy and his thoughts slow. He didn’t even hear Merrill closing the door on her way out.


	5. Chapter 5

Anders stared at the reflection. His face was thinner. There were frown lines and crow’s feet. Bags under his eyes. He fingered his ear with an idle gesture. The hole was still there, even if the earring was gone.

He made an attempt to shave, but his hands were shaking too much. As he washed the soap off of his face his eye was drawn to the deep scar on his left breast. Anders rubbed a finger over it.

_Blood. Light. Screaming. Pain._

Chest heaving, he leaned over the basin. He could still smell the blood. Had it been a memory of something? Anders looked into the mirror again, staring at the scar. It should have killed him, whatever it had been.

His ribs were prominent. He hadn’t been eating well, he was all wiry muscle and protruding bones. There were more faded scars. None as deep as the one on his chest, but none of them were familiar to him. Turning away from the mirror, Anders picked up a towel and dried his face off. There was a knock at the door, which opened immediately afterward.

“Anders are you- Andraste’s tits,” Hawke was saying as she slowed to a stop. He looked up at her, seeing her wide eyes and realising she was staring at him. She came forward and turned him gently with her hands, looking at his back and running a hand over his skin. Anders shivered at the contact and looked over his shoulder at her with curiosity.

“What’s wrong?”

“You… you were always covered. A shirt, a coat. I never knew, Anders. I’m so sorry…”

He shifted away from her, looking at his back in the mirror. That, at least, didn’t surprise him. He remembered the beatings. The lashes. He had never been allowed to magically heal himself afterward. It looked a mess, but he didn’t feel anything. They were old scars.

“I… I brought you some new clothes. Some of Carver’s old stuff. He was broader than you, but you’re about the same height, so it should fit,” Hawke said, becoming all business and putting a set of folded cloth onto the chair near him. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. You can eat as much as you want, okay?”

A nod was his only response as she left the room, closing the door behind herself. He removed the towel he had wrapped around his waist and pulled on the new clothes that had been provided before coming out into the hallway.

“Hey there tiger, the wet look suits you.”

Anders jumped backward, hitting the bathroom door and looked toward the voice. Breasts. Lots of breasts. Seemingly attached to hips and shoulders and very skimpy clothing. There were a set of amazing legs and then waves of black hair and gold jewelry and a face that nagged at his mind. He blinked when she laughed at him and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“You can’t have forgotten _me_?” She crossed her arms and smiled wickedly at him.

“I… do know you,” he said finally, frowning and trying to place her in his memory.

“The Pearl?” she prompted.

“Oh!” He stared at her in surprise as the memory came back. The last escape attempt. Right before they dragged him off to solitary, he’d spent time in a brothel in Denerim. She had been there quite often. “Captain Isabela, right?”

Isabela smiled, a little sadly he thought, and nodded. “Just Isabela at the moment, but yes. How are you feeling today?”

She hooked her arm through his and walked with him down the stairs. Isabela seemed very familiar with the estate and led him straight to the dining room as he shrugged in reply.

Around the table was the Dalish woman, Merrill; Hawke, and two other places. The mabari was under Hawke’s chair, pretending to sleep. Isabela sat at one of the empty spots, next to Merrill, which left him with the other spot, next to Hawke.

Anders sat down and silently dug into the plate that was set before him. No one spoke at first, but he was so very hungry that he didn’t notice. However, by the time he’d made his way through his third plate, the three women were talking about hat shopping and smiling.

He pushed the plate away and leaned back in his chair with a happy sigh, feeling comfortably full for the first time in a while. He noticed Hawke looking at him strangely and sat up straight immediately, worried he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

“No, you’re fine, Anders. It’s just usually you eat at least six plates before you start to feel guilty for eating my food. You don’t want anymore?” she explained with a smile. He shook his head and relaxed a little again. Six plates seemed like a lot, even for him. He’d always had a bit of a bottomless pit of a stomach - the Tower cooks would complain that he was always hungry - but he had never eaten more than perhaps four plates of food in one sitting.

“Well, we thought maybe we’d take you to a few places in Kirkwall that were important to you and see if they helped jog some sort of memory. Fenris and Varric are going to wait at the clinic for us, they’re checking ahead to make sure there aren’t any patients trying to break down the door, or any templars waiting around.”

Anders stiffened in his seat at the mention of templars. He understood that these people were trying to help him, but he was still feeling somewhat overwhelmed by everything.

“Y-yes ser.”

“I told you, Anders, please don’t call me that. Hawke is fine. Or Marian.”

He winced and nodded. “Yes, Ser Hawke.”

Marian only sighed and stood up, waiting for the others to follow suit. He followed the women from the dining room slowly, stopping only once as Hawke collected a sword and a shield. They turned inward, toward the back of the house, which confused him until Hawke opened a door and Merrill lit a lamp with magic, revealing a narrow staircase disappearing into the dark.

“Ready?”

Anders watched as Merrill smiled and began to make her way down the stairs, lighting more torches as she went. Isabela went next and then Hawke smiled at him, waiting. He looked at the stairway. It was still somewhat dark, even with the flickering torches. There was a small room at the end and then Merrill had turned down another stairway and disappeared. Anders licked his lips and swallowed.

“It’s just the cellar, Anders. It’s the fastest way down to Darktown. It opens up right next to the clinic,” she assured him.

He nodded slowly and allowed Hawke to gently direct him to the stairs. She stood behind him, waiting patiently as he stared down the staircase for a moment, steeling himself. It wasn’t a dungeon. For one thing, the floor was too nice, and the walls were clean and painted. It was dark, and a little narrow.

Anders took a deep breath and started down the stairs. He could hear Hawke on the stairs behind him and found Isabela waiting at the bottom with a smile. His hands were shaking again as he forced a small smile back at her. Fingers curled into fists as he tried to keep the shaking under control. As he turned to the entryway of the next set of stairs a draft wafted up and the smell of damp wood and something rotting hit him in the face.

*

Merrill had just opened the doorway into Darktown, stepping into the dirt. She turned to him with a smile and waved, bouncing on the balls of her feet twice before her smile disappeared. He heard it too - the terrified cry. He was already moving toward the door and the stairs, leaving Varric standing alone at the clinic.

Fenris took the stairs two at a time, passing Merrill as she scrambled after him. He passed through the few storage rooms of the cellar and began up the next set of stairs. The elf slowed as he reached the top, finding Isabela and Hawke kneeling on either side of Anders, apparently trying to soothe him.

“Please, I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you say, please. Don’t make me go back down there. Please,” Anders was begging them over and over. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his hands on both sides of his head, eyes closed, and curled as tightly into a ball as he could get. Fenris had seen slaves do this - it made it more difficult for the guards to get ahold of a limb to drag them away. The mage’s voice had a slightly hysterical note to it and he had started rocking a little, forward and backward.

“Anders, it’s okay. You’re safe, it’s just the cellar, we’re not even staying down there,” Hawke was saying, obviously upset and confused by the mage’s reaction. She looked up at Fenris helplessly.

“He was just fine a moment ago…”

Fenris had seen this before in slaves. Human or elven, it didn’t matter - but he had never seen a mage like this. Never expected to see Anders like that. The tall mage who was so intent on trying to prove how strong he was - reduced into a ball of terror at the idea of going into a cellar. It made him uncomfortable for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of. 

He felt someone push on him gently from behind and moved out of the way, watching as Merrill moved past and knelt in front of the mage. A moment later, Varric was there too, watching as the three women tried to coax Anders out of his own mind.

“What happened?” Varric asked, directing his inquiry at Hawke.

“I’m not sure,” she replied, leaning back on her heels and sighing. “He was a little nervous about coming down here, but I told him it was just the cellar and he seemed okay with it when we lit the sconces. Then he was about to go down that staircase and he was freaking out and tried to get away from us. I grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and he immediately curled into this ball on the floor and has been repeating the same thing over and over.”

“What happened just before he panicked?” Fenris asked, glancing around the room a little. There appeared to be very little other than the stairway, the sconces, and the walls that could have upset the mage.

“Nothing,” Hawke replied, sounding more frustrated.

“A breeze,” Isabela interrupted. “There was a breeze that came up when Merrill opened the door into Darktown.”

“That must have done it then,” Fenris said. “I… have seen this before. Slaves with deep set fears can be reduced to this by small reminders. A colour, a picture, a word… sometimes a scent. It may be difficult to bring him out of it.”

“Anders? Anders can you hear me?” Merrill put her hand gently on top of his head. “Anders, you don’t have to go into the cellar. Okay? We will go back upstairs.”

The mage had stopped muttering to himself, but was still rocking back and forth, his eyes now open and staring at nothing.

“I don’t think he can hear you right now Daisy. Why don’t you and I and Rivaini go upstairs and give Hawke and Fenris and Anders some room, okay?”

“I will go with you,” Fenris said, making a step toward the stairs. He did not feel comfortable seeing Anders like this, but Hawke put out a hand.

“Please, Fenris. You seem to understand this better than anyone else,” Hawke said, looking up at him from her place next to the mage. He sighed and glanced over at Varric, who nodded before following Isabela and Merrill up the stairs.

The elf knew he couldn’t refuse Hawke, so he came a few steps closer and knelt down. “I am unsure how I can assist, Hawke. The… other slaves usually dealt with things like this. I have only seen it happen, not how it was handled.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, running a hand through her short, dark hair. “It’s so frustrating. I don’t how to handle this sort of thing. Normally, I’d be going to Anders to fix it.”

She laughed without humour and rubbed her face. Fenris only frowned and then looked at the mage, unsure how to proceed.

The mage was looking back at him.

“You’re singing,” Anders said softly. Hawke fell silent and looked at Anders and then at Fenris. The mage’s gaze was making him uncomfortable.

“What?”

Anders reached out slowly and touched Fenris’ arm. The elf stood up quickly, stepping away from the mage.

“I’m sorry Ser. I… don’t know what came over me,” the mage said, blinking as if he’d just awoken from a dream.

“Don’t call me ‘ser’,” Fenris practically snarled, causing the mage to cringe and avert his gaze to the floor again.

“Sorry s-... Sorry,” Anders replied.

“Anders? Can you get up? We’ll go back upstairs, okay?” Hawke stood and offered her hand to him. “This is Fenris.”

“Yes ser,” Anders replied to her, pulling himself up without touching Hawke. “I’m sorry that I panicked, ser.”

Fenris could feel his stomach rolling every time the mage opened his mouth. The averted gaze, the hunched shoulders. He looked as if he were waiting to be punished. It was all too familiar. Fenris couldn’t stand it.

He turned away, not listening to Hawke’s replies to the mage, and hurried up the stairs. He felt sick.

“Fenris? Are you alright?”

He looked up to see Merrill, Isabela, and Varric all looking at him. The other elf had a small frown on her face.

“I… am fine. I need a drink. I will be in the library,” he said after straightening and taking a deep breath. Fenris moved past his three companions, putting as much distance between himself and Anders as he could for now.


	6. Chapter 6

It was bright outside. The sun actually hurt his eyes a little after the darker house and the memories of solitary before that. They had brought him back to the library and let him calm down a little, giving him something to drink and talking around him.

That annoyed Anders a little, the way they spoke around him as if he weren’t there. Though he supposed to them, he wasn’t there. Only the elf had remained quiet, staying in a shadow in the corner of the room, drinking from a bottle of wine directly.

Now it was just Ser Hawke, Ser Varric, and the elf. He wasn’t sure how to refer to the slouching elf - he’d been quite vehement about not being called ‘ser’, but Anders couldn’t bring himself to call him by name. Especially since the elf _reeked_ of lyrium. He could smell it now, strongly in his nose even as the gentle sea breeze wafted up the stairs of the city and through Hightown.

The elf was the odd-thing out. The rest he could have possibly accepted. The supposed amnesia, the Dalish mage living with a Kirkwall noble, the pirate from a distant memory. Even the beardless dwarf he could have probably accepted after a time, but the elf…

The elf screamed the Fade.

Anders had always felt he was good at recognising the Fade, though. He’d walked it many times in his sleep - one of the only ways to get away from the templars and the darkness. As a Spirit Healer he was connected to the Fade in a way that most mages were not. He had gotten good at being able to tell when he was being tempted by demons, and he would have sworn on his pinky that this was not the Fade. Except for the elf.

Now he wasn’t so sure about where he was and who these people were. They had told him they were going to take him to the clinic they’d mentioned earlier. The long way around, Ser Hawke had said.

They stopped at the top of a staircase and Anders looked down into a teeming mass of humans, elves, and dwarves.

So many people.

Selling their wares, yelling and shouting across the square. There was laughter coming from one corner.

So many people.

Pickpockets skipping through the crowd, children playing tag, mothers and servants leaning over tables while they haggled with the merchants. 

_So many people._

Then Ser Hawke was taking his arm and pulling him down the stairs. He couldn’t breathe. There were too many. He hadn’t been around so many people in such a long time. It was tight and narrow and there were merchants whose eyes lit up when they saw Hawke and even when they saw him and his head was beginning to hurt and the ground was starting to spin a little and then-

“Anders.”

He was being pulled back to the stairs and gently set down. Someone carefully leaned him over, putting his head between his knees and pulling his hair out of his face. Anders closed his eyes and took deep, gasping breaths, willing the world to stop spinning.

People were talking around him now, but he ignored them. He opened his eyes and focused on the mortar between the stones at his feet. He watched an ant creep its way across the slab, carrying a crumb of bread. The voices and the sounds of the marketplace seemed to disappear then, and he found himself looking at a pair of feet instead. With silver lines and marks on them. The legs were bending and then the elf was looking at him. He was singing again. That sound Anders had heard before. It was faint in the market, but he could still hear it. The elf handed him a water skin and he hesitated a moment before taking it and drinking.

He lifted his head then, following the elf’s movement as he stood up once more, and blinked rapidly in the sunlight. Then the dwarf was there and offering him a hand. Anders took it and was pulled to his feet. His hands were shaking as the dwarf released him and his legs felt wobbly. 

“C’mon Blondie. I think this is enough excitement for one day,” the dwarf said to him with a smile. He only nodded and followed obediently as he was led back up the stairs and through the quieter streets to Ser Hawke’s estate.

*

“Okay, so we need to find some way to make this work out,” Hawke was saying as she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in the library. “Obviously he can’t handle going through the cellar right now, or through the market while the sun is still up. The Blooming Rose route is probably too busy as well, and the Chantry is right out.”

Fenris pursed his lips as he watched Hawke pace and think. Anders was sitting in a comfortable chair in the middle of the room. His eyes were focused on the floor and his hands were clasped neatly in his lap.

“What if we got a healer to come look at him?”

“No Chantry healer would be able to do anything, and a Circle healer would come with a templar in tow,” Varric pointed out.

“Wouldn’t Anders know if something were wrong with himself?” Merrill asked, looking at the blond mage. “He is a healer too.”

“What about Lirene? Or the Wardens? Or even the Dalish Keeper?” Hawke said, looking at Merrill and then at Varric.

“Perhaps you should stop speaking of him as if he weren’t here,” Fenris snapped, causing them all to fall silent. Hawke and Merrill at least had the decency to look embarrassed as well. He looked to Anders and frowned.

“Mage - Anders. Use your magic. Check yourself,” Fenris told him, ignoring the frown that Varric gave him. He could see it in the man’s posture, in his averted gaze. He had been broken. He needed to be ordered. He would need to learn to be a person again.

It was not a realisation that Fenris was comfortable with.

Anders looked up briefly at him before closing his eyes. Fenris felt the gentle pull of the mage’s healing magic for a moment before Anders opened his eyes again and shook his head.

“I cannot find anything physically wrong with myself,” he told them in a soft voice, keeping his eyes lowered. Fenris felt his fingers twitch and he clenched his fists.

“Anders, will you excuse us a moment?” Hawke said, gesturing to the door. “Bodahn can get you anything to eat if you’re hungry again?”

He only nodded and stood, walking out of the room quickly, eyes averted. Fenris let his breath out when the door was closed behind the mage and glanced at the others.

“My ideas aren’t working. We can’t take him to the Hanged Man if the market made him panic, it’s just as busy. The only ways to Darktown will make him panic too. Unless we go in the middle of the night, which I’m not keen to do when he doesn’t seem like he’d handle bandits well.”

“Well, it is only noon right now. I could go back to the Hanged Man and speak to Lirene on the way. She may be able to help. Then I’ll start writing letters to the Grey Wardens and I’ll check on Isabela and see if she has any useful ideas?” Varric suggested, tugging on his earring.

“She probably went to visit Aveline. They’ve been drinking together lately up in the Keep,” Hawke said with a smile, but nodded. “Merrill, do you think the Keeper could help?”

Merrill looked thoughtful before nodding. “I think if you ask, she would be willing to assist if possible,” the Dalish said. “I don’t know if she’d help if I asked, but I’ll go with you of course.”

Hawke looked at him. He looked back.

“What do you wish me to do?” Fenris asked, a frown starting to spread across his face.

“Can you take care of Anders?”

He pursed his lips tightly. “It is a ridiculous idea, Hawke. He and I do not… agree on many things. It would make me very uncomfortable. He could stay here with Bodahn and Sandal.”

“I’m worried Sandal will make a large boom that will terrify him. Bodahn makes him uncomfortable as far as I can tell - he doesn’t like to be waited on even when he’s himself. You seem to understand what’s going on in his head better than anyone else, Fenris. Please. Everything I tried just caused him to turn into a quivering ball of terror.”

“He is scared of me as well Hawke. This is not a good idea.”

“Please Fenris.”

The elf sighed and crossed his arms. He supposed she had some sort of point. He did have a better idea of what sort of mindset the mage was in right now. He wasn’t very good at handling it, but Anders would be more likely to be left to himself to adjust in Fenris’ mansion than in Hawke’s.

“If he gives his consent, then I will agree.”

He could see some of the tension leave Hawke’s shoulders and she smiled before going to the door and opening it. “Anders?”

Hawke stepped aside as the mage came back into the room, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes on her boots. “Yes, Ser Hawke?”

Fenris could hear Hawke sigh again before replying. “Merrill and I are going to Sundermount to see the Dalish Keeper. We hope she might be able to help you. Varric is going back to Lowtown to speak with Lirene and to write some letters to the Grey Wardens to see if they could help either. Would you prefer to stay here with Bodahn and Sandal and the dog, or would you be okay going with Fenris to his mansion?”

She had phrased it as a choice, but Fenris could see the way the mage’s shoulders tensed and his eyes widened. Anders licked his lips, glancing up at Hawke and then over to Varric and then to Fenris before focusing on her boots again.

“Wherever you would prefer me to go, Ser Hawke,” he finally said. Fenris could see the frustration in Hawke’s expression, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Fenris stepped forward.

“You may stay with me, Anders. You will be safer there. It is quieter as well,” he said before Hawke could snap at the mage. It wouldn’t help. He understood her aggravation, but it would only exacerbate the problem.

Hawke closed her mouth and Anders nodded. “Yes s-...” 

The mage bit his lower lip, suddenly confused. Fenris remembered having told the mage - somewhat angrily - not to call him ‘Ser’, but he could tell from the way Anders wouldn’t call Hawke or Varric by their names that he would not be persuaded to call him just Fenris.

“Call me whatever makes you comfortable,” Fenris said with a sigh. He supposed being called ‘ser’ was better than some other things the mage might’ve called him.

“Yes, Ser Fenris,” Anders replied, his face relaxing slightly.

“Anders, have Bodahn help you pack some extra clothes and a basket of food to take with you. Merrill and I will likely be gone for a few days,” Hawke said, her annoyance disappearing now that the situation had a more certain path. “We should be ready to go in an hour.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Ser Hawke had told him to go with Fenris alone, he was certain this was the moment that the elf would reveal himself to be the demon in this dream. He would offer Anders anything he wanted. Freedom, power, kittens… possibly a ham sandwich. The elf absolutely stunk of the Fade.

An elf living in Hightown already seemed out of place. He was expecting a glittering mansion full of light and luxury; servants and food. All bowing and scraping to the elf, at which point Fenris would whisk him upstairs and try to seduce him to the dark side of the Veil. He had been led through the alleys of Hightown, between buildings and through dark streets, avoiding the more crowded streets. 

Whey they arrived, a dusty wreck full of rotting corpses and mushrooms was not what he had been expecting. Fenris didn’t even seem to notice as he stepped over what was left of a body and made his way into the foyer. This was not something a demon would come up with to try and entice someone to help it. Anders could feel a little bit of panic rising in his chest at the thought. He could deal with demons and dreams. He could deal with the Fade. If this was reality… 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before following the elf further into the dilapidated house. Fenris led him through the main hall, where there were at least two more bodies, and up a small set of stairs to the second floor. The elf glanced back at him before opening a door to a room that was surprisingly clean, despite the hole in the roof. There was a bed in the corner, a table and chair, a bench, a wardrobe, and a rug. Fenris had hung his weapon by the door and was holding his hand out to Anders, who stared at it blankly.

“Anders. The basket,” the elf said. His voice was gentle, and he took the food from Anders carefully before putting it down on the table. “I do not have many visitors, and none that stay very long, so I am afraid I am… unprepared for company.”

Anders watched as Fenris settled into a chair facing him, a slight frown on his face. The mage clenched his fists and relaxed them a few times, averting his gaze to the floor. He was unsure what he was supposed to do now, or what the elf wanted from him. He saw Fenris run a hand through his hair out of the corner of his eye and heard him sigh.

“The other two rooms on this floor are cleaner than the rest, so if you want to take one over for a few days, you may. Just let me know what you need, alright?” He only nodded at the elf, not sure what else to do or say. “You may go then. Just do not leave the house without me. I think there is a garden, but I have never gone into it, so it may be a mess. You can go in that, if you wish.”

Anders nodded again and glanced at the elf briefly before taking the chance to escape the room. When he was standing on the balcony over the main hall again, he just stared for a bit. There was a hole in the ceiling here too, and tiles had been broken and dug up here and there. There were mushrooms growing under the hole in the ceiling and even some grass it looked like. The bodies were almost mummified, they were so old.

He decided to take a look into the two rooms that Fenris had mentioned to see if there was somewhere he could sleep that evening. The room to the left had a few empty chests and an old wardrobe, but not much else. The ceiling didn’t have any holes, but the window was dirty and broken.

The other room seemed in better condition, there was a fireplace and the window wasn’t broken. A bed was against the wall, but the sheets were mouldy and the mattress didn’t smell good. He poked at it a little, deciding that it was salvageable if he used magic to kill any fungus that was hiding in the feathers. The rest of the room was a bit messy, but serviceable. He decided he’d clean it up and use it for now. 

First, however, he’d need cleaning supplies.

That required him to go downstairs. He ended up searching more of the house, finding a parlour that was covered in dust, but mainly untouched by mould or anything seriously disgusting (except perhaps rats); a dining room that was in ruins; a laundry room that was actually fairly clean (it was probably used); a couple more small bedrooms; a kitchen (that didn’t look too used, other than the door to the wine cellar); and a huge bathing chamber that made his mouth water just looking at it.

He had found some supplies however, and reluctantly took them back upstairs to begin cleaning the room he’d claimed. He startled when he realised Fenris was at the top of the stairs watching him with amusement.

“...I’m sorry, Ser Fenris. Were you looking for me?” He could feel the panic welling up in his chest. He hoped the elf had not been looking for him, he had told Anders to pick a room and warned him that it would need cleaned. Perhaps the elf would be angry that he’d been walking around the house without permission? But the elf had said he could go where he wanted as long as he didn’t leave…

Then again, Templars rarely had reasons for changing their minds.

“No. I heard you walking around and was curious, that’s all. Did you want any of the food that Hawke sent with us?”

Anders chanced a glance at the elf, and noted that he didn’t seem angry, but his smile was gone. He looked down again quickly.

“I… was just going to clean the room to the right of yours. If that’s alright? I… the bed was in better condition.”

“That’s fine. Just let me know if you need anything, or want anything. The food will be in my room on the table.”

“Yes, ser.”

*

Fenris watched as the mage walked past him, eyes down and shoulders hunched. He sighed when Anders disappeared into the bedroom he’d claimed and shook his head, going back to his own room. He left his door open though, not wanting the mage to feel like he was intruding on anything if he needed something.

He settled down into his chair and picked up the book that Hawke had him practice his reading with. It was still slow going, but it kept his hands and mind busy while Anders was in the next room. He read for a while in silence, pausing occasionally to mark a page with a word that he had problems with.

The sound of something crashing drew his attention, however, and he closed the book, getting up and going to the hall to see what had happened. He found Anders’ door slightly ajar and he pushed it open further to see the mage wrestling with the mattress from the bed that sat in the corner. The window was clean and open, and the rest of the room actually looked much neater and less cob-webby than it had the last time Fenris had been in it.

“Are you alright?” Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow at the mage, who had pulled back his hair tightly and stripped down to the waist in an apparent attempt to keep his shirt semi-clean. His gaze strayed to the criss-cross of scars across the mage’s back.

“I’m fine, ser. Did I interrupt something?” Anders drew his attention back and he noticed the scar on the mage’s chest. Fenris frowned slightly.

“No, I just heard the commotion. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Downstairs, Fenris could hear the door open and close and someone walking into the foyer. He pursed his lips and turned away from Anders to walk to the balcony and look over. He saw Sebastian come through the foyer entryway and sighed. He waved back at the prince who was smiling up at him as he moved to the stairs and came up.

“Fenris! It’s been a few days. Were you out with Hawke?” Sebastian was saying as he topped the staircase. Fenris saw Sebastian’s eyes move to the open door behind him before giving him a questioning look.

“No, Hawke has been dealing with a... situation, and asked for my assistance. It took much of my time the last few evenings,” Fenris replied and gestured for Sebastian to follow him. He led the archer into his room and waved to a chair before sitting in his own. He put the book he’d been carrying down on the floor and leaned back.

Sebastian sat in the chair opposite to him and smiled before glancing back at the open door with a question. “Do you have company? I can come back later…”

Fenris shook his head quickly, Sebastian would need to be informed. He considered calling Anders in, but that would cause much confusion on both ends unless Sebastian were somewhat prepared beforehand.

“I am loathe to discuss the issue without him present, but you will need prepared first,” Fenris said, and could tell that he’d only confused Sebastian more with his words. “Anders is here.”

He watched as the archer’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline and smiled slightly. “You remember our trip to the Wounded Coast a few days ago?” Sebastian nodded. “I went that evening to Darktown to ask the mage for more poultices. I usually take the items in lieu of the coin he owes me from cards. When I arrived he was drinking something that looked somewhat suspicious.”

The elf frowned deeply, remembering the panic he’d felt when he saw Anders drop the vial and collapse. He’d been convinced, from the mage’s shallow breathing and pale complexion, that he’d tried to commit suicide.

“Maker,” Sebastian breathed, eyes wide. Fenris shook his head, dispelling the memory.

“He was fine, just unconscious. I took him to Hawke and then assisted her with trying to figure out what the mage was attempting to accomplish with his potion. He doesn’t remember anything after his time at the Circle in Ferelden. Hawke went to Sundermount to see if the Dalish could help restore his memory and did not wish him to be alone at the estate, so she asked if I would watch over him.”

“That is why he’s here,” Sebastian finished with a slight nod. He glanced back toward the hall and then frowned at Fenris. “He remembers nothing?”

“Not that we can tell. Sometimes I think he believes we are demons of the Fade, trying to tempt him,” Fenris replied, a slight smile creeping across his face and his eyes focusing on something behind Sebastian. The archer turned again and found Anders standing in the doorway, dusty and sweaty, with a blush creeping across his chest and up his neck.

“I was going to ask if there were any sheets I could put onto the mattress, Ser Fenris. I didn’t realise you had company…”

“Please come in, Anders. This is Sebastian Vael. He’s a Brother at the Chantry,” Fenris said as he stood up. Sebastian pulled himself up as well, a slight frown on his face as Anders seemed to shrink away from the archer.

The elf cursed silently to himself and moved forward, putting himself between Sebastian and Anders, hoping that would quell some of the mage’s obvious fear. “He’s a friend of Hawke and of mine. You knew each other.”

He heard Sebastian move behind him. “Fenris was just telling me about what happened in the clinic and your last day or two with Hawke.”

“I’m not going back,” Anders said after a moment of silence. It was the firmest Fenris had heard the mage speak since he’d woken.

“No one is here to take you anywhere, Anders. I promise,” Fenris replied. “Sebastian had come to visit me. He didn’t know you were here or anything about what has been happening the last few days.”

He felt ridiculous, like he was reassuring a frightened animal or a small child.

Or a slave.

Fenris shuddered slightly at the sudden thought and tried to push it away. “I will see about getting you some sheets and a blanket. I’m not sure there are any salvageable items in the house. Would you be alright alone if I went to the market?”

Anders’ gaze flicked toward the archer and then back to the floor again. He didn’t answer right away, which was very telling to the elf.

“Whatever you think is best, ser.”

“Perhaps I can retrieve the things you need, Fenris,” Sebastian offered, moving forward into the elf’s line of sight, but staying outside of reach of Anders. Fenris noticed some of the tension leaving the mage’s shoulders at the suggestion.

“That may be for the best. Thank you, Sebastian,” Fenris agreed. “Hawke gave me some coin in case Anders needed anything.”

He pulled the pouch off of his belt and offered it to the archer. Sebastian shook his head and smiled. “I can get some of the things you need from the Chantry for free.”

Fenris reluctantly put the pouch back as Sebastian nodded to Anders. “I’ll be back later then. It was nice to see you Anders.”

He could tell that Sebastian wished to speak with him privately so Fenris gestured for him to walk ahead. “Anders, why don’t you take a break and eat something? I’ll just show Sebastian out.”

When they’d gone down the stairs and Anders was out of earshot, Sebastian turned a frown to the elf. “You said he only remembers his time in the Circle?”

Fenris nodded. “Yes, Hawke did not tell me much, except that he appears to not remember anything after a certain time in his past that she wouldn’t tell me about. He acts… oddly.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to send him to the Gallows?” Sebastian suggested. “They may be able to-”

The archer didn’t get the rest of his sentence out before Fenris has grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall next to the front door. “You will not take him there. You will not tell anyone about his current situation. Hawke is dealing with it, and I will not allow…”

Fenris released the archer suddenly, surprised at his own reaction to the idea. The Circle had done something to Anders. Whatever his last memory of the place was, it was a terrifying one. The two panic attacks the mage had already had that day; the Gallows would only make it worse, if Meredith did not make him Tranquil immediately, despite his Grey Warden status in the city.

“...I apologise,” Fenris said, and opened the door for Sebastian, his eyes on the floor. “I understand that you are only suggesting what you think is best at the moment, but I do not think the Gallows will help him right now.”

“It’s fine,” Sebastian replied, though Fenris winced at the clipped tone of his friend’s voice. “I will return with sheets and pillows. Was there anything else you might need?”

“No. Thank you, Sebastian.”

The archer nodded and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Fenris to stand in the foyer alone for a moment. He clenched and unclenched his fists before turning on his heel and going to the kitchen. Down in the wine cellar, he found a few bottles of something he hadn’t tried before and brought them upstairs.

Anders was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, picking at the bread and cold ham that Bodhan had packed for them.

“I brought some wine up,” Fenris said, putting the bottles onto the table and sitting across from the mage.

“Would you like me to open them, ser?”

Fenris stiffened. “...No. That’s alright.”

He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from breaking something. The phrase was so familiar. The tone of voice, the slight hesitation. He forced himself to relax as he opened the bottle himself, the corkscrew that he always had on hand was on the table already.

“Sebastian will return with sheets and pillows for you. You can do as you please in the house, as I mentioned before. I’m afraid there isn’t much to entertain you, however. If you want anything, just tell me and I will get it for you.”

Anders only nodded at him and Fenris had to keep his eyes on the food and wine to stop himself from staring at the mage’s scars. He had not put his shirt back on yet and it was hard not to ask. It was not his business and if Anders wished to discuss them, then he could do it when he was ready.

“I’m… going to just go read and eat by the fire,” Fenris finally said, standing up with his bottle. He would grab some food later, when Anders was done. He needed to be away from the mage and the memories that were being stirred up.


	8. Chapter 8

Anders stared at the ceiling of his newly cleaned room. _His_ room. It had a door and a window and everything. He didn’t close the door because being closed in made him nervous that someone would lock it. He knew that Hawke hadn’t locked him in the room she let him use, but he still didn’t like it and had only slept at all because the elf mage had cast a sleep spell on him.

The Chantry Brother had brought sheets, blankets, and some pillows over. The elf had brought them up for him because when he heard the Brother return, he had hid in his room. He didn’t like the man, with his cold blue eyes, and his perfectly kept hair, and his too-shiny armour, and that weird belt buckle. He was very well-armed for a supposed Chantry Brother, and Anders did not trust him. Chantry Brothers did not just let apostates roam around free.

Free.

That’s what he was, if this was all real. As time marched by, it seemed more and more likely that it was real.

Anders couldn’t decide if that was terrifying or not.

He rolled off of the bed and stood up with a stretch, moving to the window. It looked out over the small garden the elf had mentioned earlier. The garden itself was an absolute mess; muddy, dirty, full of debris, weeds, vines, and other muck.

He was going to tackle it in the morning.

The idea was sort of exhilarating, actually.

Anders leaned against the cool window pane and stared at the mess outside, trying to decide what to do first, how he wanted to start. He would need to rake out the dead leaves, and clear out the mud and muck in the small fountain. There would need to be trimming of overgrown rose bushes and pulling of weeds.

He wondered how the elf could stand all the mess. Though the room the elf seemed to live in was fairly clean, the window was still boarded and the ceiling had a hole in it. Why the elf lived here in Hightown squalor was a mystery, but Anders didn’t want to ask. He was probably supposed to know this already and not knowing made him feel self-conscious about all the things he was apparently supposed to know and didn’t.

Thinking back, he tried to remember the last thing that had happened before he’d woken up in Hawke’s estate.

There had been distant shouting sounds, voices echoing down the stairs and hallway, but too far away for him to understand what they’d been yelling. He remembered the enchantments in the walls flickering briefly and the building itself seemed to shudder.

He must’ve fallen asleep after that. That was mostly what he did in solitary after a while, when the templars weren’t visiting. He just slept. There wasn’t really anything else he could do at that point.

Anders looked at his bed and then out the window again. He didn’t want to sleep. If he slept, he might dream about solitary. Or worse, he might wake up and find that this was the dream the whole time and he was still in solitary.

He needed air. The elf said he shouldn’t leave the house alone, but he didn’t want to be here anymore. It was dark outside, there would be less people and he could move around, explore, or try to figure out what was going on. He sat down and pulled his boots back on before creeping to his door and peering out. 

The door to the elf’s room was slightly open, and he could see the flicker of firelight through the crack, but there was no noise and it was probable that the elf was asleep. At least he hoped so.

Tip-toeing forward, Anders managed to make it past the elf’s door without bothering the him. Though the elf had said he could move around the house as he pleased, but he didn’t want to be escorted like a criminal around outside.

He made it down the stairs and to the front door. He was pretty sure, from the Brother’s visit, that he could get in and out without being heard as long as he moved the door gently.

When he was outside, he took a deep breath and looked around. It was cool, but not cold. He could smell the ocean more clearly now. The area he was standing in was silent except for the guards further down. They appeared to be estate guards of some sort, not moving from their spots. He moved away from the door and turned around to look at the front so he could try and remember it again. He hadn’t had a good look when they’d come through earlier, taking back streets and alleys. 

Anders was pretty sure he’d remember it - it was definitely the most run down of all the other houses.

He turned and looked at the street again before grinning to himself. Even if this was just a dream, he was outside again. No walls, no doors, no templars. Just sky and stars and clouds and _space_.

*

Sebastian had promised Elthina to check the doors before bed that evening. There had been quite a few break-ins to the Chantry in the past few years, and the messes that were left to be cleaned up made Sebastian quite sure it was probably Hawke causing them. When he was sure that everything was secure enough to keep all but Hawke out, Sebastian turned and leaned against the half-wall overlooking the courtyard. 

He enjoyed the quiet after dark sometimes, especially now that Hawke had cleared most of the gangs out of Hightown. So it caught his attention to see someone wandering into the courtyard alone. They were moving slowly and not bothering to hide in shadows, looking about as if they’d never seen Hightown before.

“Anders,” he sighed to himself and pushed away from the wall.

The mage was staring at the giant cathedral as Sebastian came down the stairs and into the courtyard. He only seemed to notice the archer after he’d stepped into the moonlight, his armour gleaming.

“I’m not going back,” Anders said to him again, taking a few steps away.

Sebastian put his hands up where Anders could see them and shook his head. “I’m not going to take you anywhere, Anders. Though I am wondering why you’re running around by yourself.”

“It’s none of your business,” Anders retorted, taking another step away from him. Sebastian only sighed.

“Fenris and Hawke are my friends. Hawke would be very upset if Fenris managed to lose you somewhere, and wandering about Kirkwall at night by yourself is not a very good idea.”

“In my experience, listening to Brothers isn’t a very good idea either. Especially ones in shiny armour, with bows, and… and…” Anders tilted his head and squinted in the moonlight at Sebastian for a moment.

“Is that Andraste on your crotch?”

Sebastian pinched his brow and sighed again. It was definitely still Anders in there, despite the memory loss.

“Please, Anders. Hawke may have cleared out most of the gangs in Hightown, but there are still unsavoury people that wander around at night; it’s not safe.”

“I can handle unsavoury people by myself, thank you,” Anders replied. He had stopped moving away though, which made Sebastian feel a little better.

“Yes, I know, Anders. You’re very good in a fight, but you usually have a staff with you and it’s still dangerous out here alone.”

Sebastian registered the look of surprise that passed over Anders’ face with curiosity. Did he really not remember anything?

“If it’s so dangerous, what are _you_ doing out here alone?” Anders finally said, crossing his arms and giving Sebastian a speculative look.

“I was asked by the Grand Cleric to make sure the Chantry was secure before going to bed,” Sebastian replied, crossing his arms as well. Anders’ eyes widened slightly and he looked up at the building behind Sebastian.

“That’s a _Chantry_? Wow. That takes decadence to a whole new level.”

The archer grit his teeth and took a deep breath. “This city was carved from the mountain by the dwarves for the Tevinter Imperium. When the slaves revolted, the two largest buildings in Hightown were given over to the Chantry and to the Viscount.”

Anders only shrugged, looking from Sebastian to the building and back again. “Still ridiculous. They could have made a school out of it, or a high-class inn or something. Even a brothel would be better than a Chantry in something that size. Not even the Chantry in Denerim is that big, and that’s where Andraste was _born_ ,” the mage retorted.

Sebastian was a little taken aback by the sarcasm in the mage’s voice. He had been much more docile and seemingly scared in Fenris’ presence. Though perhaps it had something to do with the number of escape routes he currently had, as the archer noticed the mage’s eyes darting toward a few different exits occasionally while he spoke.

“Anders, I’m not going to take you anywhere other than back to Fenris. You shouldn’t be out here. If you want to explore then you should wait till the sun is up and then Fenris or I could take you around.”

“Too many people then,” Anders replied. “And I really don’t want to go anywhere with a weird Brother with Andraste covering his dick.”

That was all the notice Sebastian had before Anders moved. He was surprised at how quick the mage was without the usual bulky coat and feathers he had, not to mention a large staff on his back to slow him down. The archer shot after him, only managing to catch up and tackle the mage a few streets over because Anders didn’t remember where the streets went.

“Buggerfuckblightingsonofabitch!”

Sebastian took a few deep breathes as he stood up, pulling the swearing mage to his feet and holding on tightly. “You’re going back to Fenris now, Anders.”

All the fight and light seemed to go out of the blond-haired man. His shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily, eyes on his feet. “Yes, ser.”

He pulled the mage along behind him by the wrist, making sure to keep a firm grip in case Anders decided to try and run again. It only took a few minutes to reach Fenris’ house again. Sebastian was relieved to find the door wasn’t locked, and pushed it open with a creak. The house was still quiet, so either Fenris had not noticed his charge was missing yet or…

He was pacing the foyer, trying to decide what to do.

Sebastian saw the elf’s expression move from worry and anger to confusion at his arrival and then relief when the archer pushed Anders gently into the room.

“You idiot, what possessed you to go wandering Kirkwall in the middle of the night? Were you trying to get yourself killed?” Fenris snapped at the mage, whose shoulders only slumped further as he curled into himself, trying to look smaller. Sebastian frowned, suddenly reminded of the way Fenris used to hold himself when they’d first met so many years ago.

They stood in silence for a moment, while Fenris glared at Anders. 

“Well? What have you to say for yourself?”

“Sorry, ser,” Anders replied in monotone. Sebastian watched him stare listlessly at the floor. He seemed completely resigned; though to what, the archer wasn’t sure.

Fenris seemed to deflate at the mage’s words and he sighed, running a hand through his hair before gesturing toward the stairs. “Go upstairs and wait in my room. I’ll see Sebastian out.”

“Yes ser.”

Anders walked away, his footfalls echoing loudly through the silent house as he made his way through the main hall.

“Thank you for bringing him back, Sebastian,” Fenris said with another sigh. 

“He only seemed to be exploring. He mentioned something about there being too many people around during the day,” Sebastian replied and then smiled. “He’s definitely still Anders in there, though. He made a lot of remarks about the Chantry serving better as a brothel, and Andraste on my crotch.”

The elf snorted, a small smile gracing his features. “Thank you again, Sebastian.”

He nodded to Fenris with a smile of his own and turned. “Let me know if you need anything else. Goodnight.”

Sebastian waved and made his way out into the night air again, taking a deep breath. He was ready for bed.


	9. Chapter 9

He stood outside the door a moment, looking at the mage. Anders had settled himself on the floor in front of the fireplace, his feet underneath him. He had removed his boots and his hands were set in his lap. 

It was a position Fenris was quite familiar with - the mage expected to be punished.

Fenris took a deep breath and came into the room, closing the door behind him. Anders didn’t look up, but he saw the mage’s shoulders stiffen. 

“Anders.”

He sat in his chair and leaned forward, running a hand through his hair and hoping the mage would look at him.

“Yes ser.”

“Please look at me,” Fenris said, waiting until the mage had turned himself and settled his gaze somewhere at the elf’s navel. “I’m not going to punish you, Anders. It isn’t my place even if it were necessary, which it is not.”

He saw honey brown for a moment, a flash of suspicion and surprise before the mage’s eyes were settled lower again.

“Now, will you tell me why you went out alone?”

The mage licked his lips and then pursed them, thinking about his response.

“Say what you want, you aren’t going to be punished for anything, Anders.” Fenris leaned back in his chair and frowned slightly, trying to figure out how to get the mage to speak to him the way Sebastian said he’d been speaking outside. “How about this? I ask you a question and you answer, then you may ask me a question and I will try to answer to the best of my knowledge?”

Honey brown eyes met his again, holding his gaze for a moment this time before finally, a shrug. Anders turned his face away, seeming to relax his sitting position a little, looking at the wardrobe and lute that Fenris had sitting near the fireplace.

“I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to see outside,” Anders finally said.

“You could have asked me to go with you.”

Even with Anders looking away, he could see the flash of irritation. It made his pulse race - if Anders were still in there somewhere, this might not be as hard as it seemed.

“I don’t want to be escorted like a child or a criminal,” the mage finally responded, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice, even if it had left his face.

“You are neither, Anders. However, you _are_ unaware of your surroundings and should not go out alone, for safety’s sake. It has little to do with patronising you.”

Anders made a snorting noise before turning his gaze to Fenris again. “Why is your house a mess?”

He blinked.

Of all the questions the mage could have asked first, that was not the one he’d been expecting.

“I… don’t know,” he stammered.

“If you’re going to lecture me about safety then you need to clean this place up. It’s a factory for disease. Mould and mushrooms growing everywhere, dead bodies rotting in the halls, the dust and cobwebs. It’s unhealthy,” the mage retorted, crossing his arms.

“Says the man that runs a clinic in the _sewers_ ” Fenris replied, crossing his own arms.

That seemed to disorient the mage. “I thought the clinic was in Darktown?”

“That’s what they call the sewers here. Darktown, the Undercity… Same thing. It’s all the sewers. Some of it is just… slightly cleaner than other parts.” Fenris shrugged, “And that was two questions.”

Anders scowled at him, but didn’t argue, despite looking like he really wanted to. Fenris only smiled to himself, and shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position.

“What caused the panic attacks today?”

“The damp smell of the cellar and the crowd of people in the market,” Anders replied promptly. He didn’t seem disturbed thinking about either event.

“Why do they bother you?”

The mage shifted, his arms wrapping around his waist now instead of crossed over his chest. He settled onto his backside, curling his legs together in front of him with a frown.

“I will need to ask you a question to answer that,” Anders finally said.

“Go ahead.”

“We knew each other before, right? What did you know about me?”

Fenris looked at the mage for a moment, Anders having turned his head from the floor again to regard him. Truthfully, he hadn’t known much. They had talked very little, he only knew what he’d overheard the mage speaking about with other people or what Hawke had mentioned.

“I know you were at the Ferelden Circle and that you escaped a number of times. I know that you were a Grey Warden at the Amaranthine outpost after the Blight. That’s all really, we did not speak often,” Fenris admitted.

Anders shifted his position and gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, looking back at the fire. “I escaped six times… that I currently remember anyway. I was always punished when they brought me back. Extra chores after the first few times. Lashes came after that, as well as short stints in the dungeon.”

Fenris thought of the marks on the mages back and frowned slightly but remained silent.

“After the last escape, I managed to stay away for over a month before they found me again. The Knight Commander was furious and not even my status as a Spirit Healer saved me.” Anders shuddered slightly. “They wouldn’t let me heal myself after the lashes. Threw bandages around me and stuffed me into the dungeon again. Before I woke up here, I remember it was close to thirteen months I’d been down there. No contact other than the Tower mouser, the occasional templar, and the Sentinels.”

“What is a Sentinel?”

“A magical guard of some sort. They were very old. I think they’d been there since before the Chantry took over the Tower. They were used to guard the dangerous magical artifacts, the dungeons, and the phylacteries. They were just walking armour that could only attack when provoked or when intruders were about. They couldn’t speak or do much of anything other than their functions.”

“You were down there alone for over a year?”

“Yes.”

Fenris rubbed his fingers around his mouth, staring at the mage for a long moment. It explained a lot about Anders that he had never understood. The mage’s dislike of caves and small spaces, for one. “So you were overwhelmed by the people in the market, and the sewer smells reminded you of the dungeon?”

Anders nodded, fussing with the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. Silence descended for a moment before Anders smiled slightly at him and met his eyes again. “I suppose I’ll allow that clarifying questions shouldn’t count toward the total.”

The elf snorted and smiled back. “You’re too kind.”

“Why are you in Kirkwall?” Anders finally asked, though Fenris noticed the mage’s eyes linger on the lyrium lines near his chin.

“I stopped here to face my pursuer. Hawke offered to help and I stayed.”

“Your pursuer?”

Fenris pursed his lips and shifted in his seat. “My former master. I was a slave in Tevinter and escaped. I thought to face him here, but he eluded me. I have stayed since, waiting for him to return and assisting Hawke.”

“Oh… Did he do that to you?” Anders gestured toward him, waving his hand vaguely.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Fenris blinked at the mage, confused for a moment and then shook his head. “I have become used to it.”

“I might be able to do something about the knots, if you want?”

“Knots?” Fenris’ brow furrowed and his confusion turned to curiosity. He and Anders had never spoken of his markings or anything about them. In fact, he was quite sure this was the longest conversation they’d ever had without Hawke present that didn’t devolve into arguing.

Anders waved vaguely at him again, the mage was obviously beginning to tire after being awake so long. “I can see knots. Like… like strings that are tangled together. One at each shoulder, and one on your hip - probably one on the other hip too, one over your heart. I’d expect there’s probably one somewhere on your spine as well, the way you hunch over.”

“I don’t understand,” Fenris replied. He sat up and looked at himself curiously, unsure what the mage was seeing, and why he hadn’t said anything previously.

“Like threads of a spell woven into your body, there are knots in places. The lines are lyrium aren’t they? I bet you can walk the Fade awake.”

“Yes, you know… you knew that, but you’ve never mentioned knots to me before.”

“Maybe I couldn’t see them?” Anders suggested, though he seemed just as confused as Fenris did by that admission. “I’ve always been able to see spells like that though. Something to do with Spirit Healing and being closer to the Fade. Something might’ve been blocking my ability to see it… or maybe I just didn’t notice.”

He shrugged. “Your turn.”

The elf tapped his chin thoughtfully, filing away the information for later. “Hmm… Tell me about the Circle.”


	10. Chapter 10

Anders sat up with a sharp cry. Whatever had caused him to wake was already fading, but he felt like he’d been running. His shirt was soaked with sweat and his breath was coming too fast. He swallowed and closed his eyes again, trying to force his lungs to slow down.

“Anders?”

He opened his eyes again and found the elf was looking over at him from a chair by the fire. Fenris had a book open on his lap and a finger holding his place as he frowned at the mage.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes ser,” Anders finally replied, looking down at the bedding and slowly beginning to realise that he was in the elf’s bed, not his own. 

“You fell asleep while we were talking about the Circle last night,” Fenris explained, closing the book and standing up. “I thought you’d be more comfortable there than on the rug by the fire.”

Anders could feel the blush rushing to his face. He was a large man, he knew, and the elf had carried him across the room?

“Oh. Thank you… ser.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that, Anders. I am neither knight nor templar, and the verbal lashing you gave me last night about the cleanliness of my mansion should prove that I’m not going to hurt you for speaking your mind.”

The elf was smiling at him, and he felt his cheeks grow even warmer. If he hadn’t been punished by now for his snotty remarks then he was probably safe.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours. The sun should be coming up soon.”

“Can we… go outside? Please.”

He noticed the raised eyebrows and wondered what sort of relationship he and Fenris had before he’d lost his memory that the elf would be surprised at his politeness.

“I suppose it will still be very quiet for a few hours yet. We could take the stairway by the Chantry down to Darktown and go to your clinic if you’d like?”

He hesitated, wondering about Darktown. It was supposed to be the sewers, but if people lived there it probably wasn’t as bad as his mind imagined it was. “Yes, I think I’d like to see it.”

Fenris nodded and stood up, gesturing to the table where there were still leftovers from Hawke’s house. “You should grab something to eat. If you want to wash your face, there’s a basin there.”

Anders nodded and the elf stretched a little before collecting his book and moving to the armour rack by the wall. The mage took the opportunity to stand and hastily tried to arrange the elf’s bed into something presentable after he’d slept in it. He then found his boots and pulled them on quickly. Fenris was waiting by the door with that huge sword on his back again. Anders quickly grabbed some cheese and bread and re-tied his hair tightly. It annoyed him a little that it was so short. He liked having a ponytail. It made him look more dashing, he thought.

The elf opened the door for him and led the way out, down the stairs and through a side door of the mansion. It brought them into an alley. The sun was only just peeking into the sky, everything was still grey with pre-dawn light as Fenris led him out into the street and toward the Chantry.

They turned abruptly in the Chantry courtyard and Fenris led him down another set of stairs. It was much darker down there and a metal gate and grating covered the archway. The elf pushed the gate open easily with a creak and ushered Anders through.

“This is the upper part of Darktown. We’re right below the Chantry and the Viscount’s Keep here,” Fenris told him as they walked.

The ceiling was high, the space was fairly wide, though the ground was dirty and the smell was disgusting. He probably didn’t what to look too closely at what he was walking in. He couldn’t even imagine how the elf did it without shoes.

“Your clinic isn’t too far, but stay close. Carta and Coterie run things down here.”

Anders only nodded and pulled his shirt up to cover his nose. He had _lived_ down here?

Apparently, he had.

As they walked, people were waking up already and many of them seemed to know him. They would wave and smile and a few even came over to him, patting him on the back. They all looked at him oddly when he jumped, curling as close to Fenris as the elf would allow him as they walked.

“We’re almost there,” Fenris told him softly. He only nodded. He was beginning to feel nauseous, from the smell and from all the people wanting to touch him.

Finally they stopped in a narrow corner. There were some doors off to the side, which Fenris pointed out. “That’s where Hawke’s cellar opens up.”

In front of them were another set of doors with a lantern outside. The lantern was lit. 

Fenris frowned at the lantern and pushed on the door tentatively. It opened wide upon what looked to Anders like very controlled chaos.

_Death. Life. Magic. Pain. Exhaustion._

“Healing and salvation,” he murmured, putting a hand to his head and frowning at the images flashing through.

“What?”

Fenris had turned to look at him intently. He opened his mouth to respond, but someone called his name across the room and they both turned.

“Anders! Thank the Maker. I haven’t had a chance to take that letter to Hawke yet. I came down yesterday to see if you’d opened the clinic - like you asked me to - but there were people all waiting and you weren’t here, so I just started helping and haven’t stopped,” the woman said, sighing and smiling at him.

“Lirene,” Fenris said, stepping between them. “Do you still have that letter?”

She frowned at Fenris, her gaze hardening slightly before nodding. Fenris glanced at Anders, who was hanging back a little, shifting nervously. He let his attention wander, confused and uncomfortable. He noticed a child sitting with her mother to the side, her arm held closely to her chest and tears on her face. Anders moved away from the elf and the woman talking about him and knelt down next to the little girl with a smile.

“Hey there.”

“Hello, Healer.”

“What did you do?” he asked, taking her arm gently, trying to ignore the strange feeling of déjà vu when she called him healer.

“I fell from one of the staircases,” she said, biting her lip as he moved her arm gently.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he told her and winked. “It’s not broken. I think you just bruised it.”

Anders looked around for the elf again, focusing on Fenris who was pocketing some parchment that the woman had given him. “Fenris? Are there any elfroot potions?”

Fenris looked over at him, startled and then glanced at the woman, who pulled a bottle from her apron and handed it to him. He uncorked it and held it out for the little girl. “If you drink this up it will help your arm feel better, but you should be careful with it, okay?”

He looked at the woman sitting with her. “She shouldn’t lift anything with that arm for a while, and shouldn’t be allowed to sleep on it if she can help it. It should heal on its own within a week or two. If the pain gets to be too much, some raw elfroot in a tea will probably help.”

The woman nodded gratefully and coaxed her daughter to drink the potion before giving him back the empty vial. “Thank you, Healer.”

“You’re welcome.”

The woman was ushering her daughter out and the woman that Fenris had called Lirene was taking the empty vial from him, but he was already distracted by the next patient.


	11. Chapter 11

Fenris had never actually stood around the clinic while Anders was working. He imagined what he was seeing now, was probably not far from what usually went on.

Lirene had roped him into assisting with the smaller wounds, wrapping bandages and handing out potions to people that didn’t need serious assistance. Anders had started with people who didn’t need magical healing, and by the time he got to the more serious cases, he had realised that the people in the clinic not only knew he was a mage, but were _expecting_ him to use magic. Fenris had noted that this seemed to both terrify and thrill the mage as he had begun enthusiastically healing everyone in sight that could benefit from magical assistance.

At the moment, however, Anders was swallowing his second lyrium potion and starting to sway on his feet. They had been working for hours already and Lirene left them around lunch to get back to her own shop. Fenris frowned at the mage before turning back to try and finish helping the person in front of him. Anders had done this every day, all day long. Fenris couldn’t even fathom how much energy the man had, though he attributed some of it to the mage’s supposed Grey Warden strength and probably his demon as well.

That thought made Fenris frown. He hadn’t noticed anything in relation to the mage’s demon lately. When the mage was panicked he hadn’t even glowed slightly blue. He turned to look at Anders again, watching as he finished healing the child in front of him. Anders smiled at him, pale and obviously exhausted before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Fenris darted forward as fast as he could, moving through the people around Anders who began chattering and trying to help. A woman near Anders had managed to catch him and lower him to the floor, trying to push people away to give him air.

“The clinic is closed!” Fenris boomed over the chatter, and pushed the last few people out of the way before leaning down and scooping the mage up. “If you are in dire need, go to Lirene and get potions in her shop, otherwise, come back when the lamp is lit again.”

The elf was surprised when the people obediently filed out, no one apparently wanting to argue or force the issue when the Healer had exhausted himself. It made Fenris briefly wonder if this had happened before, and how many times it had happened. He knew from snippets he’d heard from Hawke and Varric in the past that the mage’s demon usually pushed him to the point of exhaustion often.

He shifted the mage’s weight as he looked around for an empty cot. Most of the few stragglers left were people who were staying with family members that needed to rest before being able to leave. After moving further into the clinic he found an empty cot and gently laid the mage down.

Well, he tried to. Fenris winced slightly when the mage’s head banged against one of the wooden slats of the cot a little harder than he’d meant for it to. Anders groaned and frowned before opening his eyes slightly.

“Ow.”

He moved back over Anders, looking worried. “Are you okay?”

“I… think so. How long have I been out?”

“Only a few minutes. I told everyone who could leave to go. I just put you in that cot. I am sorry about your head.”

Anders sat up slowly and made an unhappy noise as he closed his eyes. “Oh. Room spinning. I haven’t had so many lyrium potions in a long time.”

The elf raised an eyebrow at that. He’d seen Anders go through half a dozen potions at one time. Two should not have bothered him that much.

“I see you got him down to the clinic. Good job, Fenris.” They both turned to see Varric closing the door behind the last of the mobile patients. He was pulling a satchel from over his head as he walked toward them. “I brought some things for Blondie. Reading material mostly.”

Fenris took the bag, glancing inside before offering it to the mage, who waved it away for now. The elf noticed Varric watching them with raised eyebrows. It was probably surprising to see Anders not cowering in a corner after only one day with Fenris.

“I spoke to Lirene on my way over. She said she gave you a letter, Broody. I also sent some off to Amaranthine and another will make its way into the Gallows later to see if some of my contacts there can help.”

The elf nodded, reaching into one of his pouches and retrieving the letter Lirene have given him earlier and passing it to Varric. He opened it and began to read, glancing at Anders briefly.

“Hey Blondie, you go through that chest over there yet?” Varric asked as he focused more on the paper in his hand.

Anders opened his eyes again, wincing slightly and looking in the direction Varric had indicated. “What is it?”

“I believe those are your private possessions,” Fenris replied. He raised an eyebrow at the mage’s stunned look and stepped back, watching carefully as Anders wobbled over to the chest and knelt down.

“Fenris?” The elf turned to look at Varric, who was holding the letter and frowning. “Did you show this to him?”

Fenris shook his head. A loud cry turned them both toward Anders quickly, the elf realising he didn’t have his sword handy, but he stopped glowing when he saw what had happened.

The mage was holding a small, tattered pillow, hugging it tightly to his chest. The elf stood by awkwardly as Varric came over and knelt next to Anders. “It’s okay Blondie. No one is going to take it from you.”

Glancing into the chest, the dwarf gestured at it. “Do you recognise anything else in there?”

Fenris came closer, looking over both of them at the chest curiously. He could see a small collar with a bell, a blue and silver tabard folded neatly, some books, a woolen scarf, and a ring that looked like it was made of lyrium. Anders shook his head, frowning at the objects.

“We can take the chest to the mansion if you’d like,” Fenris replied after a moment. “You can look at them more closely there.”

Anders shrugged noncommittally, still clutching the pillow. Fenris reached over and closed the chest before offering Anders his hand. “You should rest more before we go back to Hightown.”

The mage nodded again, letting Fenris pull him up and usher him back to a cot to lay down.

“I’ll go with you when you’re ready, Elf. We can talk there.”

Fenris nodded to the dwarf and watched Anders close his eyes, clutching his pillow close as he dozed off.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hawke,_

_If you’re reading this, then that means I didn’t open the clinic this morning._

_I found a recipe for a potion that would allow me to go into a small pocket of the Fade and - hopefully - separate myself from Justice._

_We both agreed to this, we know that mages need to be free, but our merging was wrong. I wanted to help my friend and he wanted to help me, but what we’ve become together is too angry to look at things objectively, to change things without rage. Anger is necessary, but Justice almost seems to amplify my feelings and that does not help our cause._

_I’m getting off-topic again. At any rate, if I did not open the clinic, it may mean that I did not succeed. There shouldn’t be anything in the potion that would hurt us, but if something goes wrong I may be stuck in the Fade pocket still._

_Marethari may be able to assist if I am stuck, the same way she helped Feynriel. So if you can get her to come or bring me to her, I should be no worse for wear._

_I hope you understand why I did not tell you earlier. Thank you._

_~Anders_

He stared at the letter with a slight frown before glancing up at Fenris and Varric, who both seemed to be watching him for some sort of reaction. He handed the letter back to them with a shrug and wrapped his arms around his pillow again.

He had been surprised to see it. The templars had left it with his other things in storage somewhere after he’d been taken to solitary and he hadn’t seen it since. The chest full of strange items had been brought back with them and gone through carefully. The woolen scarf was nice, but he didn’t recognise it as anything special to himself. The books looked interesting and were inscribed, some to himself and some to “Justice” from someone called “W.C. Tabris”. One was about Lyrium, another about Phylacteries, and a poetry book about the Fade. The rest were all anatomy books, mostly Chantry-banned, from Tevinter.

Varric had told him that the tabard was a Grey Warden tabard, and the ring was definitely refined lyrium. The collar with the bell he recognised as belonging to a cat, but he didn’t recognise the name of “Ser-Pounce-a-Lot” when Varric told it to him, other than as a name he had ascribed to his imaginary tiger mount he planned on using to eat templars when he was bored in classes.

“So you remember none of this?” Fenris asked, gesturing to the letter and to the chest on the floor between them. Anders only shook his head.

“Well, hopefully the books I brought will help,” Varric said, picking up the satchel he’d carried to the clinic earlier and had lugged to Hightown when Anders was ready to go back to Fenris’ mansion.

Anders took it and pulled out one of the books. “A Study of the Fifth Blight, Volume One?”

“Yes, I brought you all the books I had about the Fifth Blight, about Vigil’s Keep, about the Hero of Ferelden, and all the notes I have about Hawke and our adventures with her thus far.”

“That would at least catch you up on the history that you’ve lost since Kinloch Hold,” Fenris agreed, nodding his approval.

The mage just shrugged, poking further into the chest as the other two stood up. “I’ll go get something for us to eat,” Fenris said after a moment. Anders nodded absently as he pulled a bundle of papers tied with some twine out of the bottom, from under the tabard.

“I’ll go with you Broody,” Varric replied, standing up to follow the elf downstairs. Anders didn’t look up as they walked into the hallway, untying the twine and unfolding the first page.

It was a letter, dated for early 9:30, from Karl. It was short, expressing gladness that Anders was out of solitary and informing him that Karl had been sent to the Kirkwall Circle. The next one was a few months later, asking about Grey Wardens and Amaranthine. 

Fenris and Varric returned with a tray of food and a pitcher of water. Anders accepted the food that the elf handed him, though his eyes were focused on the letters in front of him. He read each twice before folding them and putting them to the side. The letters were more regular after the second one. Karl would talk about Kirkwall, though Anders could see between the lines that the older mage wasn’t very happy with the Circle he’d been moved to. He didn’t say anything outright, but Anders knew that letters that were sent outside Circles were always read by the templars first.

When he reached the last one, he tilted his head and frowned at it. It had notes in the margins in his own handwriting. ‘Meet me in the Chantry after midnight.’ Karl had written it in cypher. Anders looked at the back of the letter and then at the pile again, frowning deeper when he realised there was definitely no more correspondence and this one, based on the dates of the others, had to have been sent almost four years ago.

He glanced up at the two by the fire and then back to the letter. “Do you…”

Both looked up at Anders expectantly. He bit his lip, suddenly afraid to ask. Fenris told him he was allowed to ask anything, but he still felt a stab of anxiety at what the possible cost for his answers might be.

“You can ask, mage. You don’t need permission,” Fenris said.

_Mage._

“Nevermind, Ser. I’m sorry, Ser,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor and folding the letters together. He winced at the frustrated noise the elf made.

“I thought we were past that,” Fenris growled. “Ask your question.”

“Now Broody, snapping isn’t going to help,” Varric said, his voice more soothing. “Go ahead Blondie, we’re listening.”

“I... “ Anders looked at the letters in his lap again and then carefully at the two men across from him. “I wanted to know where Karl is.”

Fenris’ face was blank at first, then a small crinkle in his forehead appeared as he looked to the dwarf. Varric’s face told Anders much more. The dwarf looked away from him - Varric made it look like it was a natural change of gaze, but Anders knew body language. His smile drooped a little.

“I’m sorry, Blondie. Your friend Karl died a few years ago.”

The breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding whooshed out of him at once. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the tears he could feel welling up inside. “How?”

An answer wasn’t forthcoming. Anders opened his eyes again, blinking the moisture away and looking at the dwarf, who was decidedly uncomfortable. Varric rubbed the back of his neck, frowning and avoiding the mage’s gaze.

“You don’t want to know that, Blondie. He didn’t feel any pain. It was quick. Leave it at that.”

“How?” Anders asked again, his voice a little stronger now. He glanced at Fenris, who didn’t seem to know anything about Karl or what had happened. Varric grimaced.

“Are you sure you-”

“Yes. Tell me. Please.”

The dwarf sighed and ran his hand over his face before looking the mage in the eye. “You were to meet him in the Chantry. To get him out of Kirkwall. Or at least out of the Circle,” he began.

“We met you there. Hawke, Sunshine - sorry, Bethany - and myself. We went inside to get Karl and found him. He’d been made Tranquil and brought there by the templars to lure you out. We fought the templars, and your spirit made an appearance. It seemed to bring your friend out of his Tranquility. He begged you to kill him before the Tranquility reasserted itself.”

“I killed him,” Anders said. He felt numb. His chest hurt, but everything else was heavy. His head felt dull and foggy. “I…”

He stood up, letting the letters scatter from his lap onto the floor, and took a few unsteady steps toward the hallway.  
“Anders?” 

The elf was next to him. Anders looked down at his arms and blinked slowly. Fenris was touching him, holding his elbow, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. He was suddenly very tired. Too tired. Too tired to care about offending the elf or the dwarf or about templars who might be chasing him, or about being in Kirkwall of all places. Too tired.

“I want to sleep.”

He felt like his face didn’t work properly. That wasn’t what he had wanted to say, but he was too tired to think of the right words now. The elf was giving him a strange look, like he was worried. Anders decided that where he was standing now was as good a place as any to sleep, so he tried to sit, but the elf pulled him up again.

“You can sleep in your room, Anders.”

“Okay.”

He stood there dumbly staring at the elf. He couldn’t think straight. He had a room didn’t he? Or did he? Was this the dream or was solitary the dream? Maybe all of them were dreams. Finally, he felt the elf tug on his elbow and he let himself be led from the room and into the next room. Fenris settled him onto the bed, frowning at him all the while.

Sleep didn’t take long to claim him.


End file.
